Glitter Cafe
by ruffruffren
Summary: Aoba works for Clear in a little coffee shop known as 'Glitter'. After a long run of failed relationships, Clear decides to give love a helping hand and sets Aoba up with his favourite customer. Plotless fluff.


Aoba slammed the sign down on the counter in a less than graceful manner, the board banging down on the hard surface with a loud bang that startled the mixture of customers who had been otherwise quietly enjoying their afternoon coffee.

'Aoba-san?' Clear asked, a look of dismay staining his fragile features. His silvery brows knotted together as he placed the plate down he had been drying on the side, approaching his disgruntled colleague. 'Is something wrong?'

'Yes, Clear. Something is wrong.'

'Is it your boyfriend?'

Aoba scoffed. 'What boyfriend?'

'Ah. Aoba-san has had a falling out with boyfriend-san.'

'You could say that.'

Clear placed the palm of his hand on Aoba's back reassuringly. 'I am sure you two will make it u-'

'I never want to see him again!' Aoba flung the cloth in his hands into the sink, splashing water onto the wall. The two looked as the soapy suds lazily slid down the tiled surface. 'I'm sorry, Clear. I didn't mean to snap...'

'You don't need to apologise to me, Aoba-san.' Clear said. He was a softly spoken man, gentle and kind hearted to the extent people tried to take advantage of him. Aoba was hired to join the team - now consisting of two - a little over two years before. According to Clear he opened the coffee shop in order to meet many people. Aoba had to admit there were perhaps a hundred and one better ideas, but the earnest way in which Clear had spoken of his ideals stole his breath away. It was impossible not to feel inspired.

And so, Aoba donned the frilly white apron that was the uniform and got to work, continuing to this day.

The day Aoba broke up with his seventeenth boyfriend in a row, the saga of trials listened to by the ever caring ears of Clear.

'Well, Aoba-san deserves a little happiness.' Clear said as he walked around the other side of the counter, wiping off the daily specials Aoba just finished scrawling in his anger. 'He deserves a slice of his own happiness.'

'Thank you, Clear. But I doubt I'll find it in this place. There can't be many men left out there.'

'Aoba-san needs a little helping hand...' Clear's voice trailed off as he finished writing on the board.

'Clear... what are you doing...'

'Don't worry! I am on the case!'

'That's what I am afraid of. I still remember number twelve...'

Clear pouted. 'Th-that was one mistake! I misjudged your taste.'

'He was bald...'

'...I misjudged it a little.'

'And twice my age at least.'

'I am only trying to help!' Clear's pink tinted eyes watered, and for a moment Aoba swore the grown man was going to cry.

'Ah - I'm sorry, I know, I know, I know. I don't mean to be ungrateful.'

'Well, do not fear! I have the perfect solution.'

'Hm.' Aoba's protest was stopped as the small bell above the door chimed, heralding the arrival of a customer.

'Welcome!' The two called in perfect harmony.

'Welcome to Glitter Cafe I am your waiter...'

'Aoba-san. Twenty three years old. Single. Recommends his telephone number.'

From his bow, Aoba slowly tilted his head upwards, drinking in the familiar white shirt with the rolled up sleeves, the partially unbuttoned front that revealed a hint of milky flesh beneath, the loosened tie, the wavy silken tresses...

The familiar sight of the only customer who made his heart skip a beat just by walking in through the door. Aoba was sold on him from the moment his deep, velvety voice asked for a black coffee to go. It was unrequited love at first service.

So shocked by his appearance - though not unusual for this hour of the day, he was, afterall, a regular - that Aoba took a further few seconds to realise what he said.

'Ex-excuse me?' Aoba squeaked, his crimson blush darkening.

'I was reading your board. You are... single?'

Aoba's mouth hung slightly open. 'Y-yes.'

'Did things not work out with your last boyfriend?'

'H-How did you...'

The customer glanced over Aoba's shoulder almost guiltily, and Aoba could hear the faint footsteps retreating to the backroom. Aoba wanted nothing more than to call out angrily to his boss, sensing something plotted without his prior knowledge.

'Is it true?'

'Is what true?' Aoba asked, dumbfounded. He would surely cringe as he replayed this conversation in his mind later, as he sunk into the warm embrace of his evening bath, the place where he always played out the fantasies of his perfect conversations with this particular customer.

The customer smiled, his amber eyes sparkling with amusement. Aoba's heart momentarily stopped.

'That you recommend your number.'

'It depends what you are looking for.' Shit, Aoba thought. That sounded far more sexual than he intended.

'I would be inclined to a comfortably hot coffee with a fair balance of fluffy froth on the top that I can mix in.'

'... I thought for a moment there you wanted my number.' Aoba laughed nervously, feeling a crush of disappointed as he turned to the coffee maker.

'I was.'

'Pardon?'

'I was asking for your number. I think my coffee/relationship metaphor might have missed you.'

Aoba took a moment to pinch his thigh, ensuring he had not fallen asleep during one of his bath-time fantasies. '...My number...'

'Yes, please. Unless... I am not your type. I don't want to be another number twelve.'

'How the...?' Aoba felt his anger boil up again. How much had his secret crush heard about his disastrous past?

'I-I'll just be a moment with your coffee.' Aoba stuttered, the noisy machine roaring into life and effectively silencing their conversation. With no idea how to resume it, he handed the customer his coffee, tucking a napkin around it. 'It's hot, so take care. Thank you and come again!'

'Thank you.' The man turned, and Aoba wondered if he saw a hint of melancholy in his glimmering eyes.

'How did it go?' Clear came back out with perfect timing.

'Clear. You and me, we need to have a little chat about a thing called 'interference'.'

'Aoba-san...!'

With a heavy heart Ren exited his favourite little coffee store. The beverage hot in his hand he walked the short path to the park, seating himself down on the bench he always did, untucking the napkin from around the plastic cup with a sigh. He had hoped to finally have a chance with the waiter who had stolen his heart those two fateful years ago, but it seemed his his desire was hopeless.

The coffee itself was not even that good; but something about the way Aoba made it kept Ren coming back for more. Everyday in fact, at this time. And everyday Ren promised himself that today would be the day he finally plucked up the courage to ask.

And today had been that day.

And it had failed miserably.

The crushing sense of defeat weighed heavily on his shoulders as he sipped the warm beverage with disinterest. It was a heavy blow to suffer, the splintered fragments of his heart piercing his chest.

Feeling a line of frothy milk gathered on his upper lip, Ren reached for the napkin. But before it reached its destination, he paused, reading not once or twice, but three times the badly written scrawled message.

'Enjoy your coffee.' Below it was a number, followed by a name.

'Aoba.'


End file.
